Through the Darkness Shines a Light
by brinchen86
Summary: The war is over, but while everyone is slowly recovering, Ron has to deal with a new demon, threatening to destroy him from the inside and Hermione has to learn that she's more than just a smart witch. Can they help each other through these new challenges?


**Title:** Through the Darkness Shines a Light  
**Summary:** The war is over, but while everyone is slowly recovering, Ron has to deal with a new demon, threatening to destroy him from the inside and Hermione has to learn that she's more than just a smart witch. Can they help each other through these new challenges?  
**Characters:** Ron, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, the Weasleys, Neville, Luna  
**Pairings:** Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Neville/Luna  
**Rating:** R (for psychological trauma)  
**Disclaimer:** I DON'T own anyone or anything. I DON'T own the characters. The Harry Potter Series belongs to J.K. Rowling. The fanfic is written for fun, NOT for profit. Cover art by Newt Scamander at The Dark Arts

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There was nothing but darkness. Thick and everywhere, pressing in on him as if it was a physical creature. His breath got stuck in the depth of his lungs and he tried, tried not to drown in it, but there was nowhere to go, no way to escape. His heart hammered, so hard that he wondered why it hadn't escaped his chest yet. He shook with the knowledge of something bad about to happen. But worse than that, worse than the familiar feeling of being sure he could die every moment was something else.

"Traitor," someone said. Or...something? Did he even hear a voice to begin with, or was it something somewhere in his head? Ron's stared with wide eyes, stared into the never ending darkness, freezing from the inside, cold sweat covering his skin like a thin layer. He wanted to ask why, what he'd done, but he knew. Of course he knew. And somewhere in the depth of his mind, he understood now where he was, what was threatening him.

Aren't you your own worst enemy? Someone had said that once. He couldn't remember who. But he knew it was true. He was his own worst enemy. Worse maybe than You-know-who, who was no more thanks to Harry, but who'd only wanted to kill him. He, however, he had the power to destroy everything from the inside out. Slowly, forever. Oh, how good he was at destroying everything for himself.

It laughed now, the voice. If it was a voice. A shrill laughter, amused too, and so, so cold. "Traitors deserve to suffer, don't you think, Mr. Ron Weasley?" It chuckled. "Look at yourself, you worthless, dirty piece of shit. How many times have you turned your back on your very best friend? When he needed you the most? And why? Because you didn't get the attention you wanted, you selfish bastard? And Hermione...how many times have you fought with her? Remember your third year? Can you imagine how much you've hurt her? How lonely she was when you and Harry pushed her away? Because of you?"

"No!" he screamed, but the supposed scream came out as nothing but a whisper. No, he hadn't meant to betray and abandon Harry because of attention. He...he just...he'd felt so bad. Like he was back home again, with his skilled brothers and his sister whom his parents had wanted so much. Like...like he didn't matter anymore, because why would Harry need someone like him? And Hermione...gosh, he wondered why she'd ever even wanted to be his friend. He knew. Of course he knew how unworthy he was of everyone and everything!

"I didn't mean to…" he started, but the voice cut him off.

"You didn't?" it hissed, and he winced. "Then why'd you done it? Remember…" And suddenly there were images in his head, in the dark. Images he couldn't have seen himself because he hadn't been there. Hermione crying at Hagrid's, because she'd been so alone. Harry, all alone while everyone made fun of him because he was the fourth, unplanned participant in the Triwizarding Tournament. Harry and Hermione again, alone in the wild, dangerous world, sad and afraid, dealing with it all on their own because he'd run away. Were those images real? Or his imagination of what might've happened back then?

Tears stung in his eyes, fell eventually, rolling down his cheeks. "I...I'm sorry!" he whispered, voice getting stuck in his throat. He knew what he was feeling now, that thick feeling in his chest like something heavy resting on it. Guilt. The voice chuckled again. "Yes, guilt," it agreed. "And it'll haunt you. Your sweet friends have to deal with the aftermath of a war. So do you, but what'll bother you more will be this. Guilt. A well-deserved punishment for you, a long time coming. You've been right with one thought all along, Weasley." Now the voice almost sounded like Draco Malfoy as it added, "You're worthless. A worthless piece of shit like you doesn't deserve attention. Enjoy the darkness. It's all there is for you."

And then it was gone. The voice left him alone in the darkness, in his mind, stuck and alone, and drowning in pain. Just like he deserved. He wanted out, but didn't know how. Didn't know if he should even try. And then…

"Ron! Ron, can you hear me? Wake up!"

The voice was just an echo at first, far, far away, and oddly enough he could see it. See a voice? But yes...he could see something in the depth of the darkness. A tiny, tiny light. He reached for it, wanted to grasp it so badly. The voice shouted again, and this time he recognised it. He reached for it again. Please, he thought, please!

When his eyes flew open, he could make out more light now, dimmed but wonderfully warm. Candles maybe? He couldn't tell for sure because his view was fogged and he blinked, blinked until he could make out a figure hovering above him. The figure got eyes that looked worried and after another moment, he could finally see her.

"Hermione?" he asked, his voice rough like he'd screamed for days. "Where…"

"It's all good, you were dreaming," she said, voice warm and soothing. Now that he'd obviously recognised her and was back, a relieved smile spread across her face. He could feel something warm on his cheek. Her hand probably. His heart was still racing, his breath going so fast as if he wanted to fill his lungs with air before it'd been taken away again. His mind was spinning. Dreaming? Yes, he'd probably been dreaming. A nightmare. Only…

"Are you alright? Do you want me to get you a glass of water?" she asked, so concerned. Sweet, worried Hermione. He could feel stinging once more.

"Nah, I'm fine." Ron moved to sit up, shaky like he'd just faced You-know-who himself. He tried to smile to assure her that he meant what he was saying. Fine. Of course he was fine. She shouldn't be worried. "Just a bad dream is all. Guess it happens to the best of us."

Her smile widened a bit and she nodded in understanding. Yes, all of them had bad dreams. Harry, Hermione, Ginny,... he was sure his entire family was traumatised. Hell, they'd almost lost Fred during the Battle of Hogwarts! He was still slowly recovering, but he was getting there. Yes, everyone was dealing with the war. And he…

He was busy with his own damn mind again. Selfish idiot.

The thought hit him like a punch to the stomach and knocked the air from his lungs again. Shouldn't he be dreaming of the war too? He'd been there after all. He'd seen horrible things. Such horrible things. But instead he dreamt of guilt and shame because of his very own actions. Didn't that prove the voice right? Didn't that prove what a self-centered moron he was?

Something has to change, Weasley, he told himself as he looked back at Hermione, at her beautiful, friendly face. You gotta stop making everything about yourself. Gotta be strong for the others, be there and help. Not think about your own shit. No one cares for your own damn feelings.

It was that very moment that the thorn of doubt and guilt embedded itself deeply in his heart. It'd always kinda been there. He knew his parents had wanted a girl. He knew his brothers had always been better, more skilled, even Fred and George who'd been troublemakers but brilliant. No one had said such a thing, and he knew his parents, his siblings all loved him. But he'd still felt like the sore thumb that didn't fit in. Then Harry and Hermione...the Boy Who Lived who'd impress everyone and who was so, so strong after all he'd been true, and the Brightest Witch of Her Age, who knew pretty much everything. Where'd he fit in here? He'd often wondered why they wanted to be friends with him, had been ashamed then and overplayed it with jokes and a big mouth.

Yes, Ron Weasley knew how to doubt himself, how to downgrade himself and forget everything he'd done. How he'd been the first to befriend Harry Potter while everyone had just stood and stared. How he'd always come back and stood by his friends' side. How he'd die for them and his family. How he'd risk everything for them if it meant to keep them safe. It all meant nothing to him as he looked at his faults that appeared mountain-high.

I have to change, he thought. And I will. I'll be there for them, and not care for myself. Maybe...maybe I can make up for it all then. Be the friend they deserve.

And so, Ron Weasley decided to become what he believed was worthy of friendship, of family, unaware of his inner voice that laughed and cheered in victory because he'd made the first step towards self-destruction.


End file.
